Dearly Departed
by NightLie
Summary: Arthur's dead and Merlin's destiny is in tatters. Where does he go from here? /Set after the Battle of Camlann. Arthur, Morgana, Gwaine, Lancelot and Mordred make an appearance. Contains spoilers for the whole series.


**AN:** Hello, this contains spoilers for the whole series. Please don't continue unless you have watched the whole show.

I don't write often and I let others read what I wrote even less. But I couldn't get this plot bunny out of my head after watching the show, so here I am!

I hope you enjoy it.

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For a long time, Merlin gazed after the boat carrying Arthur further and further away from the world of the living. He had failed. _They_ had failed. And without his destiny, he didn't know what he had left.

Night soon came, bringing its dark chill. Merlin shivered, blinked, and knew he ought to build a fire. But there hardly seemed to be a point to anything, so he stayed where he was, staring into the dark water.

Someone was standing behind him. A hand appeared at his elbow, pulling him away from the water. He let himself be guided to a small camp. There was a fire, some blankets to sit on, and bread. A water skin was pushed into his hands. He stared into the flames and drank and ate. He couldn't taste any of it, but he swallowed.

When he stopped, the water skin was exchanged for a blanket. Someone draped it over his shoulders, securing it against him. He didn't look away from the flames. He was far away.

It was a while before he noticed them. Presently, he became aware there were other people sitting around the fire with him. Blonde hair, so like Arthur's. It was enough to bring him back to his surroundings, and for the first time since he realised he had failed, his eyes focussed on what was before him.

There, on the other side of the flames, was the familiar blue eyes of Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King.

"Arthur," Merlin choked, "It cannot be. You're dead."

"Yes, I'm dead." Arthur replied calmly, smiling at his friend. "But we came back to see you. We wanted to thank you."

"We...?" But his question was answered almost immediately. Merlin realised he was sitting with his friends.

There was Gwaine, and Lancelot, on either side of Arthur. The former raised a tankard at Merlin's gaze, while the latter simply offered a gentle smile. And beside Gwaine was Mordred, who nodded at Merlin before turning to his left. With a shock, Merlin realised it was Morgana. Morgana, as she was when they were young, and before all their troubles had taken hold. Morgana, who smiled without malice at Merlin, as she had when they had been friends.

His grief hit him anew, a physical blow which took his breath and painfully twisted his insides. Each one of them was a reminder of how he'd failed. A reminder of the mistakes he'd made. He had failed them, and they had died whilst he had lived.

"I'm sorry." His words were barely comprehensible through his distress. "I failed all of you."

Hands pulled at his, clasping them in theirs. Kind green eyes gazed into his. Morgana.

"No. We made our choices, just as you did."

"If I had told you sooner, if I had helped you better -" he pulled his hand away to dash away the tears which fell.

"I would have walked a different path," she conceded. "Merlin, it wasn't your choice to make. It was mine. I let vengeance take the priority over everything else. I was blind to the other options. I could have helped Uther pave the way for a return to magic, but I didn't. I could have helped Arthur, and you, build a kingdom where magic was celebrated, but I didn't. That was my choice."

Merlin nodded, understanding that Morgana wanted him to accept her words. She smiled, that wonderful smile which had caught Merlin with its beauty, all those years ago when he had first come to Camelot. She let go of his hand and sat beside him, beckoning for Arthur to come to them.

Seeing his familiar stride, confident and sure, so different from the weakness before his death, brought another wave of sadness. Merlin ducked his head, embarrassed that Arthur should see his tears. His king sat down beside him in a rattle of armour.

"I should have known you would be the death of me; you must be the most lazy, incompetent servant I've ever had."

Merlin couldn't help but chuckle at the familiar complaint. He looked up to see Arthur smiling at him affectionately.

"And you're definitely the most royal of all the prats I've ever met," he answered, feeling the grief recede in the warmth of their friendship. But in his face he could see another: the Arthur who had turned cold after death had claimed him. The boat sailing ever into the dark of the night, lost from his sight. His face fell.

"I couldn't save you. With all my magic, I couldn't save you."

Arthur was silent, watching him.

"We were going to unite Albion and usher in a new age where magic flourished. It was our destiny." Even as he said it, he could feel it slipping away. Perhaps it had always been a pipe dream, and he had never realised it.

"Merlin, I want to thank you for the faith and loyalty you've always shown me. I never understood why you would place such trust in me, but it always compelled me to be deserving of it. It made me a better man, a better king, and I have you to thank for it."

Arthur reached out to grasp his shoulder before continuing, "My only regret is that I never appreciated you with your magic, until it was too late. I know now how I failed you in not acting sooner to right my father's wrongs. Forgive me, my friend, for being too stubborn to follow your advice."

Merlin gave a small laugh, surprising Arthur with his reaction.

"I'm apologising to you, and _you're_ asking me for forgiveness," he explained. "It is forgiven. Of course it is. I knew you would be a great king, Arthur. I still do. If only we had a few more years," he trailed off wistfully.

"It wasn't meant to be," Arthur said gently. "My time was come. And I am glad of it, because I died defending Camelot, and Camelot's enemies have been dealt such a blow, that there will be peace for a decade, if not more."

Merlin felt a small part of his grief lift at his words. This wasn't the destiny he had been desperate to achieve, but there was still some good left in the outcome.

Sensing his change of mood, Arthur smiled and moved to sit beside Morgana, giving Merlin's shoulder a light squeeze. The half siblings smiled at each other and began to reminisce in soft voices. Watching them, Merlin felt a sense of rightness in the world.

"Hello Merlin."

Gwaine had taken the seat vacated by Arthur, and held a surprisingly not empty tankard.

Seeing the object of his gaze, Gwaine chuckled and said, "Best thing about being dead, is that I'm never left thirsty for a drink. No matter how hard or fast I down them, the tankard is always full."

"It's good to see you, Merlin. So, a sorcerer, eh?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"That's alright. It was the smart thing to do, for the most part. Except for when it wasn't. All those times when it would have been great to have a sorcerer with us, or when things just got too much for you to deal with alone; you should have told us. We're your friends, Merlin. We could have helped you."

Chastised, Merlin found himself unexpectedly more uncomfortable in this conversation with Gwaine, of all people. Squirming under his gaze, Merlin was silent as Gwaine took another swig.

"You really told no one?"

"Well, Gaius knew. And...Lancelot." _And Mordred, Gili, Freya..._

"Lancelot!" Gwaine exclaimed. The man in question glanced over at them, distracted from his conversation with Mordred.

"Lancelot, get over here!" When Lancelot had sat himself down beside Gwaine on another log Merlin hadn't noticed previously, Gwaine continued, "You knew about Merlin?"

"I saw him kill the griffin." Lancelot replied simply.

"That wasn't you?"

"Our weapons had no effect. It had to be killed with magic."

The knights began to descend into their usual banter, accusing the other of less brave and noble deeds. Watching them, Merlin felt conflicted. He smiled at their good humour and the ridiculousness of their words. Yet Gwaine had been tortured to death by Morgana, and Lancelot had died twice.

They seemed to know his mood.

"We're knights, Merlin. We know that in all likelihood we will die young and unnaturally," said Lancelot. "And it was an honour to die serving my lord, and in order to have you live."

Gwaine nodded in agreement, lowering his tankard to rest on the floor.

"My death could have been nobler, but I always knew I would not live to grow old and infirm. I only regret I could not delay Morgana more, that I didn't take your location to my grave." Gwaine flushed with shame, though he held Merlin's gaze.

"She would have turned to Percival. You spared him that fate."

Gwaine nodded, smiling gratefully at Merlin, while Lancelot gave him a manly clap on the back, which nearly overbalanced him.

"Hey!" Gwaine glared at Lancelot, steadying himself on the log and picking up his drink.

"You can't hold your liquor, old man." Lancelot teased, winking at Merlin. He stood up, offering a hand to Gwaine, who allowed himself to be pulled up. They both smiled at Merlin before making their way to their king, sitting on his other side.

Merlin could feel someone staring at him. It was Mordred. Across the fire, he now sat alone. Seeing Merlin return his gaze, he stood up and walked to sit beside the warlock.

"Emrys." The druid nodded, his lips curling into his peculiar smile which Merlin had found unsettling even on a little boy.

"Mordred." Merlin fell silent, uncertain about what he felt towards the druid.

"I didn't understand why you were always so reluctant to help me, to accept me. We both had magic, and faced the same fate if we were exposed. Even after I saved Arthur, you could not accept me. I kept your secret from Morgana, but you would not trust me." Mordred paused, his large eyes intent on Merlin. "You knew, didn't you? From the beginning, that I would kill Arthur."

Merlin nodded, frowning as he remembered his struggle.

"The Great Dragon told me you would be his doom."

"He told you not to help me."

"I couldn't do it. You were just a boy, and when you weren't, it was too late."

They both looked over at Arthur. He was interrupting another one of Gwaine's ridiculous stories while Lancelot half-heartedly placated their feigned animosity, all of them delighted at Morgana's laughter.

"I don't know why you didn't try to persuade Arthur that Kara had a point. She said I was a fool for trusting you to bring magic back, when you had abandoned us."

"She knew who I was?"

Mordred looked at him with surprise. "Every druid knows who you are, Emrys."

Merlin considered this. His destiny had always been a great burden on him, and the responsibility he had felt towards people who had magic had kept him to his duty on many occasions. Yet, they appeared in his mind as a vague crowd. He had not felt answerable to them.

"I thought I would have more time. I was waiting for the right moment..." Merlin closed his eyes as he remembered the day that the right moment did come. The day he lost sight of his destiny, and sealed all of their fates. He opened his eyes to meet Mordred's gaze. "I told Arthur magic had no place in Camelot, because I wanted you dead."

Something flashed in Mordred's eyes. His face twitched. Hurt, betrayal, confirmation. Merlin looked away.

"Kara was right. I had forgotten why I was protecting Arthur. I had forgotten all of you," Merlin continued, the bitterness and self-loathing he felt at the choice he'd made growing in light of his new understanding. "And now I have nothing."

They fell into silence. The gaping chasm that had been the core of his identity, his purpose to be, threatened to overwhelm him. More horrifying still was the thought that he had been the cause of this, that he had every chance to turn things around, but he hadn't. He had been too slow, too arrogant, too naive...

"You're alive." Mordred's words were like a physical blow. "And magic still has no place in Camelot."

Merlin bowed his head, silent.

"Restore the Old Religion. You owe it to us, Emrys."

When Merlin looked up, he was alone.

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